Prada Outlet, Fine Pecorino Lure Visitors to Le Marche: Travel

By Craig Seligman -
Jul 27, 2010

Summer in Italy doesn’t have to
mean standing in line for hours to view a Giotto or a
Tintoretto for minutes. With a rental car -- and the stomach
for curlicue curves -- you can breeze through Le Marche (or the
Marches), a less traveled region on the Adriatic Coast.

Some of the most showoffy scenery is in the south, where
the Sibylline Mountains rise theatrically behind the green
rolling hills.

I stayed at a beautifully restored farm called La
Querceta, a few miles outside the placid little town of
Amandola (a good place to base yourself), which sits at the
edge of the Monti Sibillini National Park. The rooms in the big
stone house are large and comfortably appointed. My partner and
I rented the nearby two-bedroom house with a kitchen. It had
once been the pigsty.

Owner Giovanna Galbiati prides herself on her breakfast
tortas. With advance notice, you can also have a dinner that
includes campofilone, the region’s egg pasta, and the succulent
local lamb. (The great seafood restaurants are on the coast;
inland, meat is the mainstay.)

In Amandola itself, the smart, updated Hotel Paradiso sits
atop the town. It has an excellent restaurant that -- like just
about everybody else -- makes its own homey pastas. For simpler
fare, head downhill to Bella Napoli, a classic pizzeria where
they keep the good local reds in the fridge: Rosso Piceno,
Rosso Conero, Lacrima di Morro d’Alba.

Hilltop Villages

The Marche is dotted with beautifully preserved hilltop
villages; as you drive, you can often pick out several in the
distance. Each one has its draw.

We drove to Sant’Elpidio a Mare to see its shoe museum,
and discovered a good restaurant, Il Melograno, with a fine
terrace in the back that looks far out to the sea. It’s a good
place to try the ubiquitous local specialty, olives ascolane
(stuffed with meat and cheese, breaded, and deep-fried -- why
didn’t I think of that?) as well as vincisgrassi, a rich
regional lasagna made with cream, veal and unmentionable
chicken parts.

The museum itself -- the Museo della Calzatura -- reflects
an important local industry: The region’s prosperity derives
from its apparel factories as well as its farms. (In nearby
Montappone, there’s a hatmaking museum.) The small display
traces the history of footwear, from Chinese foot binding to
disco platforms, and includes a few famous shoes (Ferragamo’s
“invisible sandal” from 1947) and shoes of the famous (popes,
singers, athletes).

Prada, Tod’s

The same building holds the small Pinacoteca Civica
Vittore Crivelli, with an exquisite polyptych and an equally
jewel-like triptych by the Quattrocento master the museum is
named after. The clump of big outlet stores outside town --
including Prada, Tod’s and Roberto Botticelli -- draws crowds
the two museums could only dream of.

Heading south from Amandola for Ascoli Piceno, we stopped
in the little town of Comunanza for lunch at the venerable Da
Roverino. In addition to plates of cured meats (a universal and
dependable antipasto in these parts) and tagliatelle in a slow-
cooked ragu, we lucked out with a salad of fresh porcini
mushrooms (their usual season is the fall) that was so good we
asked for another one at the end of the meal.

Spritz in Square

Ascoli Piceno is the largest town in the southern Marche,
and its central square, the Piazza del Popolo, is one of the
prettiest in Italy, with loggias along two sides and the art
nouveau Caffe Meletti tucked into the corner. Meletti is known
for its anisette, but on a warm afternoon a “spritz” -- soda
dressed up with a shot of Aperol or puckery Rabarbaro (made
from rhubarb) -- goes well with fried olives and people
watching.

It’s a longer drive north to Loreto, the second most
popular pilgrimage site in Europe after Lourdes. The reason: In
the center of its splendid Renaissance cathedral sits the
Madonna’s house, originally situated in Nazareth. According to
certain authorities, it was flown to Italy by angels, a
forebear of Dorothy’s trip to Oz.

The little house -- the Santa Casa -- isn’t much, even
with the presence inside of the celebrated Black Madonna of
Loreto, and if you suffer from claustrophobia the mob inside
may make you feel like one of the damned. The true miracle is
the marble casing designed for it in the early 16th century by
Donato Bramante, with scenes from the life of the Virgin and
the transportation of her home. Tracks carved into the rim that
extends from the bottom encourage the faithful to approach the
entrance on their knees.

Olives, Baccala

A couple of kilometers away, at Ristorante Andreina, we
had the best meal of our trip, which included carpaccio of pork
seasoned with fennel, olives, and orange; ravioli stuffed with
chicken and a hint of liver; roast kid; and baccala, the
traditional dried and rehydrated cod, that was so tender it
might have been freshly caught.

After a selection of the region’s legendary pecorinos,
paired with honey and marmalades of quince and raspberry, the
table was suddenly blanketed with bite-size desserts -- tiny
tiramisus, spoon-size raspberry panna cottas, white-chocolate
truffles, strawberry marshmallows. We ate them all.